


The Soldiering Life

by velcroboyfriends



Series: Days of Yore [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Military, Amputation, But really not that angsty? Much happier than what's happening right now in AWHFT tbh, Closeted Character, Disability, Disabled Character, Explosions, Happy Ending, M/M, Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Secret Relationship, Slow Dancing, Swing Dancing, WWII AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velcroboyfriends/pseuds/velcroboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the height of WWII, and during a concert at the USO, Richard and Lee, fellow soldiers, find their lives changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Soldiering Life

_But you, my brother in arms,_

_I'd rather I'd lose my limbs than let you come to harm_

_And you, my bombazine doll,  
_

_The bullets may singe your skin and the mortars may fall  
_

_But I have never known so much life  
_

_Than tonight, huddled in the trenches  
_

\- "The Soldiering Life," The Decemberists

  

As long as he lived, Richard would never forget the night Glenn Miller and his orchestra played at the USO. The room was packed with soldiers in their civvies - a strange sight, after the months they'd spent in identical uniform. Suddenly they were free to dress themselves with abandon, and many of the boys had gone all-out at the shops. Richard had stuck to the plain clothes he'd brought, simple things. Glad rags were for glad times, not the middle of a war, with the constant fear of being bombed out looming over his head.

Inside, though, with the lights dim and the band playing loud, Richard almost let the fears out of his head. The sounds of horns and drums and his fellow soldiers (and a few nurses, though not many) talking and whooping and laughing left little room for other thoughts. But when Lee stepped into view, looking quite sharp in a grey waistcoat and red tie, his sleeves rolled up in the heat of the room to reveal delicate wrists and forearms well-shaped from their work, Richard's fear shot right back up again.

He and Lee had been in the same platoon since Richard had been drafted, and they'd been fast friends. Most of the other soldiers took some time to warm up to Richard, as taciturn as he tended to be, or they felt too much sympathy for him after they heard the accent he still hadn't managed to drop after his family had crossed the pond ten years ago. He didn't need to feel like his poor, beleaguered homeland was being rescued by the brave Americans.

Lee had seen through his quiet nature and found the commonalities that ran deep between the two of them. They both desired a quiet life surrounded by nature's beauty. They both sought insight into the human condition and found great interest in picking apart characters from books and movies. They'd talked for hours some nights, until they'd been ordered to bed, never running out of material for conversation, and their bond had grown deeper the tougher military life became.

Richard had been smitten with Lee since the first time they met - he couldn't help but to admit it to himself, after he'd recognized what it was. It had been easy, though, to push aside the attraction when they'd been kept busy with drills and orders and always marching, never sleeping enough not to feel a bit delirious. But now that they were stationed in London, waiting for further commands, all the time waiting left Richard's mind open to explore the possibilities. And now, with the evening free to enjoy themselves at the USO, Richard had absolutely nothing to distract him.

As Lee approached, Richard's gaze traveled to the glass he held in each hand. It wasn't until Lee grinned and offered Richard one of them - a whiskey sour, from the look of it. Richard took it gratefully in one lightly quaking hand. His fingers brushed Lee's during the hand-off, and his whole body took notice, buzzing all over. Richard hoped the dim lighting would hide the flush tinging his cheeks.

"Some band, huh?" Lee said as Richard took a long sip of his drink. He relished the burn of the whiskey as it went down, the way he immediately felt the warm curl of it in his stomach. It made his fears of bombs and, more so, of the feelings Lee sparked in him, subside a bit. Richard nodded emphatically and took another mouthful of whiskey. Lee was downing his gin rickey at a similar pace: rushed, but trying to seem casual.

"It's nice to get a night off," Richard said, "Feel like people again." Sometimes, lined up in rows in their matching casings, Richard felt not unlike a bullet in a magazine, obedient to the great finger pulling the trigger. In here, he felt as though he had some of his own autonomy, as though he had choices. And as he took another sip of his drink, he knew what choice he desperately wanted to make - what choice he _couldn't_ make.

"When we win this thing, we'll get to feel like people every night," Lee answered. Richard imagined he heard a little twinkle of suggestion at the end of that comment, but he pushed the thought down, washing it away with another long gulp of whiskey. He had some rules for where his thoughts went, and one of the forbidden areas of thought was the idea of spending nights with Lee.

"Yeah," Richard said, "When we win." His fingers twitched around the glass in his hand. It felt like such a long way off, an unbearably long way off, until they could go home. Sometimes he wondered if the war would go on forever, stretching into infinity, until he was old and grey and still marching in his platoon.

"Hey." Lee clapped a hand on Richard's shoulder. "Buck up, kid," he joked. "Drink your whiskey, listen to the music. Don't think about all that stuff." Richard looked up into Lee's face. His smile was infectious, and Richard found the corners of his own mouth turning up in answer. They held their eye contact for a little too long, and Richard had to break it off - it was too much. Instead he looked at the dance floor.

"They're having fun out there," Richard commented. There were a fair number of nurses in their company tonight, but the men outnumbered them so much that many of their brothers in arms seemed to have taken to dancing with one another for lack of female partners. Richard grinned as he saw Aidan and Dean in the swirl of bodies, twirling and tossing one another with gleeful abandon. They _would_ be the sort to learn the kinds of impressive swing moves that made Richard simultaneously thrill with excitement and cringe at the danger of it all.

Lee said nothing to that, just tossed back the last of his drink, set the glass down on the table nearest them and reached out a hand to Richard.

"Wanna dance?" Lee asked, and his smile was so big that Richard knew he couldn't say no, although he had to try.

"I don't really..." Richard attempted to say, but Lee moved forward to tug at the sleeve of Richard's shirt.

"C'mon," Lee insisted, "We're in the middle of a war, we've gotta take the fun where we can find it." Richard sighed, downed the last dregs from his glass, divested himself of it, and took Lee's hands, letting the man pull him into the crowd of dancers.

Richard wasn't used to following - he'd never learned the steps from a woman's point of view - but Lee led him so well that he barely noticed the unfamiliarity after the first couple movements. His feet swayed easily into the rhythm - right, left, rock back, and right again - and his hands rested comfortably, supported by Lee's palms. When Lee led them into a walk-through, he switched sides effortlessly, and when he felt pressure on his right hand, he spun into a twirl, giggling slightly at the humor of spinning under Lee's arm and back again.

They danced along until Lee turned Richard out again, and when Richard turned back in, he returned his hand not to rest on Lee's offered hand, but to grasp Lee's waist, maneuvering them so that he was leading. Lee laughed in surprise and followed along, taking Richard's lead. Grinning madly, they danced all through the tune, and through the next one, switching the lead up every now and then whenever one of them had the impulse to take over. Around them, the crowd whirled and shouted and laughed, but Richard's focus was only on the music and on Lee.

" _God_ , it's hot in here," Lee said after the end of a song, half-yelling to be heard over the din of the crowded room and the next tune beginning.

"Want to go outside?" Richard asked, and Lee nodded, taking his hand to pull him through the crowd and out the back door of the USO hall. Although it had been stifling inside, it was nice and cool outside, the air still damp and green-smelling from a recent rain. Stray drops still dripped from the branches of the trees in the area behind the hall, and Lee strolled toward them, Richard following. It was silent out there, although the band could still be faintly heard from inside the hall. The tune changed to a slow, soft one, a clarinet trilling out a lovely flourish.

"Hey," Lee said, turning back toward Richard. His eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight. "Wanna dance?" He offered his hand and Richard took it, letting himself be pulled into Lee's arms, one hand gripped in Lee's and the other resting on the man's shoulder. They swayed slowly to the music, Lee's arm tight around Richard's waist. They were close now, far closer than they'd been dancing in the hall. Richard could feel Lee's breath ghosting across his skin.

_"There were angels dining at the Ritz,"_ the bandleader sang from within the hall,  _"And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square..."_ Richard sighed softly, his fingers curling into the shirt on Lee's shoulder. When he looked up into Lee's eyes, the man was watching him carefully, as if to read him. Richard arched an eyebrow, wondering what he was looking for so avidly. Lee's gaze dropped down to Richard's lips, and the man's own lips parted just slightly, and the curve of them was so beautiful that Richard had to lean up and slowly, softly, kiss them.

Neither of them breathed while they brushed their lips together, the moment tense as a soap bubble about to burst, and then Lee sighed out a breath and angled his head, pressing forward into a proper slide of lips. Lee's hand left Richard's to grip at Richard's neck, and Richard's hand went to Lee's waist, pulling him even closer.

Richard had imagined a lot of things. Mostly he'd imagined making an advance like this and being pushed away firmly, perhaps even being reported and discharged, his reputation stained. Occasionally, though, he'd let himself dream of a world in which Lee might tolerate or even return his affections. Nothing, though, nothing he'd thought of compared to the warm, solid reality of this moment, the warmth of Lee's skin a beautiful contrast to the cold night air.

"I've wanted to do that since I met you," Lee murmured when their lips finally broke apart. Richard smiled softly, curling his fingers into the hair at the nape of Lee's neck.

"So have I," Richard whispered, and Lee ducked his head to kiss Richard again, but just as their lips met, there was a great booming sound from within the copse of trees just behind them and a plume of smoke filled the air. Both of them were shocked into motion, trained too well to pause for a moment to think in the wake of an explosion. Richard gripped Lee's hand and ran for the USO hall. They'd only wandered some thirty feet from it - they could make it. But as they ran, Richard felt Lee's hand slip from his and heard the heavy sound of a body hitting the ground.

He'd been running so fast that it took a moment for him to respond and look back. Lee had tripped on a root and was struggling to his feet, eyes wide and full of fear. Richard knew he was supposed to put his own survival first, to keep running, but he turned back and hurried toward the other man. He was just in front of Lee, was just about to grab him and haul him up when his vision went white and his ears filled with the ringing sound of an explosion and then everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

The military hospital was eerily quiet that morning. Richard didn't know what he had expected, if he'd had the misfortune to be wounded, but it wasn't the sort of silence that hung like a pall over the room as he sat in his wheelchair next to Lee's cot. Lee looked tiny, despite his normally quite daunting size, and terribly fragile, surrounded by white - his white robe, the white sheets, the upper half of his left arm encased in white bandages. His eyelashes looked especially long and dark against the skin of his cheeks all pale from lost blood.

Richard had been patched up without anaesthetic, the bones in his leg and hip set while he'd screamed bloody murder. They'd made him rest for a bit while they'd operated on Lee, piecing the man's abdomen back together and removing his mangled left forearm - or at least, he'd pretended to rest until Lee had been wheeled into the room next door, and Richard had insisted on being moved into a chair and allowed to sit vigil. They were such very good friends, after all, the nurses said. Perhaps a companion's presence would help Lee to stay strong.

Richard hadn't taken his eyes off of Lee for hours now, except to blink and, occasionally, to fend off a nurse who wanted him to _rest_. There would be plenty of time to rest once he knew that Lee was going to make it, but until then he knew he couldn't close his eyes for a second. If he closed his eyes, he knew, that could be the moment Lee's condition turned critical, and he wouldn't have a chance to take one last look at him. This way, he'd know if anything happened before the nurses did.

And so it happened that he was the first to know when, slowly and blearily, Lee's eyes opened.

"Hello," Richard said softly, nearly a whisper, the low volume both to soothe Lee and to avoid alerting any nurses to the man's wakened state for as long as possible. Richard wanted some time to have Lee to himself.

"Hi," Lee mumbled, his voice sounding dry and uncooperative. "Am I...?"

"You're going to be just fine," Richard answered. "We're in the hospital." Lee nodded, then licked his chapped lips.

"Do you... can I have any water?" Lee asked, and Richard took up the glass from the table next to Lee's cot. Carefully he held it up to Lee's lips, tilting it just enough to allow some water to spill out into his mouth. A little bead dripped down the side of Lee's chin, and Richard swept it away with a gentle thumb. The touch seemed to spark memory in Lee's mind. "You kissed me," Lee said slowly. "You kissed me, and then..."

"Shh," Richard urged. "We can talk about that another time. Not here." He knew what would happen if they were found out now. As it was, they were likely to be honourably discharged, returned to the world as brave men wounded in the line of duty. If anyone knew what they'd done last night, the discharge would not be so honourable. Lee nodded, then shifted uncomfortably.

"My - ugh," Lee groaned, twitching his left arm. "My hand, it _hurts_." Richard felt the blood drain from his face.

"You... hurt it, in the explosion," Richard explained hastily, then tried to change the subject, continuing, "Do you want any more water?" It was too late to take Lee's mind off it, though, and before Richard could do anything, Lee was lifting his left arm and staring in horror at the lower half of it - or rather, where the lower half used to be and was no longer.

"But," Lee stammered, "But my _hand_ hurts." He looked at Richard, eyes wide. "It hurts, I can _feel_ it." Richard blinked away the prickle in his eyes.

"They had to take it off," he said quietly. "It was too... they couldn't... they had to." The muscles in Lee's arm twitched, muscles that had once moved an elbow and wrist and hand. Lee's hands had been beautiful, his fingers long and broad and capable. Richard took the right one in his grip, and Lee squeezed tightly. "It's all right, you made it, it... it doesn't matter, because you're still here, and -"

"Oh! You're awake!" Richard was interrupted by a nurse bustling in through the door of Lee's little room. "Please, Richard, we really need to see to his vitals," she said, face stern, and Richard knew he was going to have to leave. "You can talk all you want later." Richard turned back to Lee.

"I'll be back," Richard said, "I promise. As soon as they let me. Okay?" Lee nodded and squeezed Richard's hand tight. His eyes were red and brimming with tears. "It'll all be all right, I swear." Richard wanted nothing more than to press a kiss to Lee's lips before he left, but he knew he couldn't, not with the nurse there. Instead he gave Lee's hand a firm squeeze of his own, then returned his hands to the wheels of his chair. Slowly - he was still getting used to controlling the thing - he turned about and wheeled out the door and back across the hall to his own room.

 

* * *

They did let Richard back in to see Lee, as often as possible, until both of them were deemed fit to be shipped back home and, just as Richard had thought, receive their honourable discharges. Lee's face had been worried when he'd gotten the news that he was to go back home. He'd joined the army to get away from his small town, he'd said, and now he was going back. Richard's response had been an offer to go home with _him_ , and to his joyful surprise, Lee had taken it.

They'd rented a little flat in New York, and while busy life in the city was far from the quiet life they'd both dreamed of, it was a place that allowed two men to share a single-bedroom flat without batting too many eyes, and that, to Richard, was valuable enough to make up for the noise. He treasured the freedom that the city gave them every morning, when he opened his eyes to Lee sleeping next to him in _their_ bed.

"Good morning," Richard murmured on that particular morning, as his eyes lifted to see Lee's own eyes locked on his. Lee smiled softly.

"Good morning," Lee answered. It was still strange, after these many months living together, and still wonderful, to greet the day together. Lee shifted and curled closer to Richard, wrapping his right arm around Richard's waist. Richard moved closer in response, nuzzling into the crook of Lee's neck.

They laid like that for a few minutes, just breathing softly together, until Lee's left arm began to twitch and he rolled away, stretching it, his face contorted in pain.

"Hey," Richard said, "Here," and he laid a gentle hand to the scarred skin of Lee's upper arm, massaging the tight muscles. Lee sighed softly and after a bit, the muscles began to relax under Richard's touch. Richard bent his head to press a kiss to the end of Lee's arm. "Okay?"

"Okay," Lee said, his voice still tight from residual pain, but his face had begun to relax again. Richard moved up to kiss Lee's lips, then turned to sit up, reaching for the cane leaning next to their bed so he could pull himself to his feet.

"You know what day it is," Richard said, and Lee smiled, shifting in the covers to move himself out of the bed. He looked beautiful, standing sunlit before the window, the beams playing over his bare skin, and Richard moved around the bed to stand behind him and brush his hand over the other man's freckled back. Lee arched into his touch, reaching back to smooth a hand over Richard's ever-tilted hip.

"It's been a short year," Lee said, and Richard nodded, pressing his chin into the curve of Lee's shoulder. Outside the window, the people in the city rushed about, time bleeding into itself in the hurry to get from one place to another. But in here, in this room, Richard cared only for the present moment, and the horrible, beautiful moment that had brought them here, a year ago to the day.

And as long as Richard lived, he would never forget the night Glenn Miller and his orchestra played at the USO.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not quite happy with this fic (I think the pacing is way too fast) but it's been living in my head for so long that I had to just let it fly out on its own. Hopefully, despite how sad this is at points, it's still a nice break from the angst of AWHFT xD


End file.
